Earth Bound Soul

Inhale

Inhale the nectar that fills his aura.
Lying next to you, nuzzled into your warm breasts,
He smells like toasted cheese sandwiches and s'mores.
You can almost feel the vitality of his being enter into your bloodstream like the oxygen in the air. It hurts to breathe that deep.

It hurts more not to.

You want to take him into your arms and hold him until you forget why you picked him up to begin with.
A lump gathers in your throat and you tell yourself you're being ridiculous.
He's just a baby.

A baby.

A tiny human life that relies on you for nourishment and love. Patience and guidance. Arms that are always open.

A crawling infant that follows you everywhere. A walking toddler that gets into everything and sounds like a pterodactyl. A preschooler who climbs into the back of the car because he doesn't want to be dropped off at pre-school, forcing the principal to get him out. A 9 year old who loves pizza, cheese and Lego. A 14 year old who's always mad at you.

An adult.

Isn't that what we signed up for?

Exhale.

Be present.

Listen.
Return to the earth and listen.
Bring your soul to the mat and spill it out all over the red plastic.
Hear the howl of the full moon and let the dew of the night fall on your shoulders.

You want to take a stand. To make a change.
Yet you're unwilling to step outside that box and look at things from the ground up.
Let the wind whisper truths onto your skin.
Open your womb to birthing every sacred idea you've ever jotted onto the back of your grocery list.
Embrace the answers you hear in the silence.